


Beyblade Metal Saga ficlets

by Lunarcentric



Category: Metal Fight Beyblade | Beyblade: Metal Fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-07-16 13:55:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarcentric/pseuds/Lunarcentric
Summary: I wanted this to be a full fic, but I finished the first scene and my mind completely shut down. It's been really hard to write these days (hence why chapter 2 of "Are We A Cartoon" is still in progress). I figured that I would leave this as it is to make a sort of story prompt or fic starter. If you want to use this as the start of your own fic, please feel free, as long as you tell me about it in the comments and credit me for the starter in your post.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be a full fic, but I finished the first scene and my mind completely shut down. It's been really hard to write these days (hence why chapter 2 of "Are We A Cartoon" is still in progress). I figured that I would leave this as it is to make a sort of story prompt or fic starter. If you want to use this as the start of your own fic, please feel free, as long as you tell me about it in the comments and credit me for the starter in your post.

Hyoma was not amused with Gingka's current antics.

“Look, this way! Come on already!”

“Gingka, if I'm not in bed within the next fifteen minutes, I might just murder you.” Hyoma trudged behind his friend, dragging his feet along as much as possible to get the message across – he was tired, and he wanted to sleep. He did _not_ want to follow Gingka into the woods after dark in his pajamas.

Sighing dramatically, Gingka came to a stop and turned around, fixing his best puppy-gaze on Hyoma. “It'll be quick, I promise!”

Though the gaze didn't affect him – it hadn't for years, honestly – Hyoma shook his head in submission and did his best to pick up the pace. “This is the one late night adventure you get, Gingka. And only because you saved the world.”

With a triumphant grin and a cheery 'thank you', Gingka resumed leading the way. Holding his lantern out, Hyoma tried placing where they were on the mountain. It was familiar, certainly, but most of it was to him at this point.

Before too long, they came across a partially collapsed cave, a faint red glow emitting from within. Gingka spun around toward him, pointing excitedly. “Look at it! It's glowing!”

Hyoma sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “And you want us to go in there and find out what it is. Why can't we do this tomorrow?”

“Well I was gonna, but I came out to look at it earlier and the glow wasn't there! I first spotted it at night, so I figured it would come back at night, and it did!”

“Okay, fine. But if this is some legendary bey with a magic prophecy, I'm going to kill you. You _just_ beat Nemesis a month ago.”

“No magic adventures. I promise.”

Trusting Gingka's word – he might be a bit too energetic for this time of night, but he _was_ still his best friend – Hyoma joined Gingka at the mouth of the cave. It took them a few minutes of careful rock removing to open it large enough that they could enter, and Gingka wasted no time waiting after they were done. He ducked into the cave, and for nothing but the worry of his friend's life and safety, Hyoma followed.

The cave was a single room, bathed in the red glow emanating from the far wall. Hyoma could barely stand without bending over, his hair brushing against the ceiling with each step he took. He gazed around the room in a single sweep – carved, straight walls and floor; a corner that held the end of an unknown body of water, too clear and glassy to be natural; and of course, the dragon carving on the far wall with the glowing red markings around it.

Gingka was smart enough to not get too close to the mysterious glowing carvings, and Hyoma thanked the gods for that. “What do you think this place is, Hyoma?”

Frowning, Hyoma took a longer, more careful look at the dragon. The detail and design were familiar to him, but it took some thought to figure out why. “I think this is a safe house? From the legends about those who left Koma Village to join that cult.”

“No way.”

“I'm not saying for sure, but it's possible.” Hyoma pulled his attention from the carving in order to kneel by one of the empty walls. Upon closer inspection, it had clearly been filled in with mud, closing off whatever was behind it. “They say that they saw the forbidden bey as a deity, and separated from the village to found their own so they could worship in peace. We aren't too far from Koma Village, so this must be the remains of one of their first hiding places.”

Hyoma hadn't thought about the legend in a long time, so it was hard to remember the details. Something about the dark fires of Lightning L-Drago bringing purification and sanctuary? Having seen the forbidden bey in action during Battle Bladers, he could safely assure himself that it was unlikely, if not impossible.

After pressing against the concealed doorway long enough, Hyoma deduced that it wasn't going to fall open, so he turned back towards Gingka. “I may have complained before, Gingka, but this is an amazing find. Proof that the legends might actually be real!”

Instead of reacting with excitement as Hyoma had expected, Gingka was frowning at the dragon carving. “Why is it red?”

“What?”

“Lightning L-Drago's aura was a dull purple. But the carvings are glowing red.”

Turning to take another look, Hyoma realized that Gingka had a point. “You're right. That is strange.” With the rise of a historical myth, Hyoma was losing his tiredness and reluctance. “I wonder why-?”

“Do you think something would happen if we touched it?”

“If you touch any of that wall, I'm going to punch you.”

“I'm not gonna _do_ it!” Gingka rolled his eyes, then scratched the back of his head. “Man, it's nice and all, but one room? Even with the freaky glowing dragon, that's kinda boring.”

“Not everything can be a multi-part adventure right away, Gingka. Come on, we've found it now, let's get going. We can take a look in the library tomorrow and then come back to figure this out.”

Though Gingka whined, he reluctantly agreed to Hyoma's plan, and he was the first to leave the cave. Taking one last look at the carving, Hyoma shuddered a bit, then turned to do the same.

And then his lantern's flame sputtered out.

Grumbling, Hyoma patted at his sides to find his pockets, and drew out the matchbook he'd been carrying inside. Whether he was experienced with this mountain or not, it was always a bad call to wander it without a source of light.

After a bit of fumbling, he successfully lit the match. Kneeling down where he'd set the lantern, he moved to re-light it, but gasped in a panic when the tiny flame grew into a miniature blaze. He threw the match toward the wall, where it hit, then fell into the water.

Rather than going out, the fire consumed the liquid entirely. Frozen in place from fear, Hyoma heard the roar of flames as they spread further back into the mountain.

Then, all at once, the fire vanished. The only source of light was the red glow of the dragon.

Now trembling, Hyoma grabbed his lantern and scrambled to his feet, whirling around to flee the cave. Before he could reach the opening that he and Gingka had made, something grabbed his arm.

Hyoma was not a coward, but he screamed all the same.

Even as he fought to break free, he was pulled back, the red glow taking form to shove him toward the covered wall. With no control over his movements due to the glow's grasp, Hyoma's arm swung back, then forward, his hand making a forceful contact with the wall of dried mud. It broke through, and the wall completely crumbled. Hyoma was released and he made no attempt to see what he might've just freed – dropping the lantern, he turned and bolted from the cave as fast as he could.

When he emerged, one of his hands bleeding from his frantic pushing at the rocks blocking his exit, Hyoma practically toppled onto Gingka. Before his friend could say a word, he shouted, “Run!”

Gingka took his word for it, and the two fled into the woods. By some miracle, they weren't separated, but by the time they came to a stop, neither had any idea where they were.

The two reluctantly decided to make camp for the night, and thankfully, nothing else had happened by the time they made it home the next afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By pretty much complete accident, I’ve created a spiritual sequel to Hyoma and Gingka's spooky adventure. Funny thing is that it’s so vague it can be seen as either a continuation of sorts or a stand-alone ficlet.
> 
> Again, if you want to use this as the start of your own fic, please feel free, as long as you tell me about it in the comments and credit me for the starter in your post.

Ryuga had only a vague idea of what had happened, but it was enough to annoy him.

Sure, he'd given Kenta his power to defeat Nemesis. L-Drago had been in no shape to continue battling, and he himself had been at his limits. He knew that much. He remembered passing the star fragment on, then light, then...nothing.

It had been a surprisingly brief nothing, in his perspective. He'd expected _something_ to happen, whether it was an afterlife, a reincarnation, or even some ghost bullshit. But no, instead of anything he'd expected, he was dealing with _this._

_'This'_ being the sight of Kenta's face in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

It was a rare occurrence for sure, but right now, Ryuga was completely baffled. What the hell was going on?

As he was forced to join Kenta along his day, Ryuga thought through his situation. He seemed to be trapped within Kenta's mind somehow – was this a side effect of him passing along the star fragment? Had he passed along not only it, but all of his own energy as well?

...Was he _dead?_

Whatever had happened, it was annoying that he didn't have a body. A real one – within Kenta's mind, he could conjure himself up one, which helped ground his senses, but there was nothing to really look at besides whatever he saw through Kenta's eyes and the cream-colored light that surrounded him. It would have been unpleasantly boring if not for the splashes of red strewn randomly throughout. It almost seemed like the same shade of L-Drago's energy. Was this some view of Kenta's own spirit?

His attention was taken when he heard Kenta's cry of _“Let it rip!”_ from outside. Looking through the boy's eyes, he followed the spin of his bey – it looked different than he remembered. Had the power of L-Drago allowed it to evolve?

Kenta lowered himself to his knees, his vision shifting accordingly. _“Please, Sagittario...just one glimpse. I know he's inside you somewhere, he has to be.”_

There was a familiar tremble in his voice. Kenta's whimpering was desperate, pained, tired – the same as when he had first begged Ryuga to help Gingka and his friends against Nemesis. What was he looking for? Did he expect L-Drago to be within his bey? It was possible, but Ryuga found it unlikely that L-Drago would speak to the boy, whether he technically held its power or not. Besides that, why would Kenta be so torn up about wanting to see it?

As Kenta's head dropped, Ryuga could no longer see the bey. The boy's eyes shut, and he pleaded, _“Please, Ryuga...you can't be gone...”_

…

Had...

Had he heard that right?

_“Ryuga, please. I know you're in there somewhere. You have to be. I...”_ There was a sniffle. _“I just can't believe that you're...there's no way!”_

Why was this kid so upset about him? _Him?_ He'd caused psychological damage to at least four of his friends – the three he'd beaten at Battle Bladers (he refused to believe that Kyoya had been unscathed), and Gingka, after he'd supposedly killed his father. Ryuga had conquered tournament after tournament, stolen countless spirits to satisfy Lightning L-Drago. He'd barely acknowledged Kenta through the entire time the kid had followed him.

Why was Kenta so emotional about losing _him?_

This was ridiculous. He hadn't given Kenta his power to cry like a baby. Dead or not, there was no way Ryuga would allow this to continue.

He floated toward one of the red splashes of light, letting it surround his mental form. With no hesitation, he called to L-Drago, reaching through the bond that was now between it and Kenta. The dragon's spirit roared in immediate response, and Kenta's eyes flew open, his head jerking upward to stare at Sagittario. The bey held a scarlet glow, and there was an audible roar from it that mirrored in reality what Ryuga had felt within.

_“Ryuga?”_ Kenta gasped. His vision was blurry with tears, but he rose to shaky feet and stumbled forward. _“Ryuga! Are you...is that you?”_

The pain in his voice sent a pang of annoyance through Ryuga, along with...something else. He wasn't sure what it was. Something cold and uncomfortable. He strengthened the bond he currently held with L-Drago, giving it careful instructions.

_Do not let him be swallowed by this weakness. Make him strong. Make him worthy of being your wielder._

He could feel the question, the confusion – why would it help the boy when Ryuga was right here? Ryuga was the only one worthy of its power.

Something in Ryuga's imaginary gut tightened. _I promised._

One thing was clear – the world had not ended in his absence. With the power given to him by Ryuga, Kenta had reached new strength and helped stop Nemesis. By technicality, it had been Kenta's doing – not his own. By technicality, he had not truly listened to Kenta's request and helped Gingka stop Nemesis. Kenta had done it himself.

Ryuga didn't know why, but the idea of leaving this promise unfulfilled, even by technicality, twisted something inside him. Perhaps this was the reason he was here – people always said that ghosts were the result of having died with unfinished business. This must be his.

Through Kenta's eyes, he glared at the scarlet light. It felt as if he was looking into L-Drago's own eyes, and the dragon was staring back at him.

_You will make him worthy. That is my final word to you._

L-Drago tried to protest, but Ryuga pulled himself back into the cream light. The voice faded from his thoughts, and the light fell away from Sagittario. As Kenta's tears and begging continued, Ryuga willed himself to rest. For now he had done his part.

If watching over Kenta was his punishment...losing the right to wield L-Drago, losing his body... Perhaps it was a just one.

Perhaps, as he grew more used to the situation, it would slowly cease to be a punishment at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bad day yesterday but it fueled me enough to finish this before the weekend was over. Warning it's sad
> 
> This one has lots of headcanons
> 
> Again, if you want to use this as the start of your own fic, please feel free, as long as you tell me about it in the comments and credit me for the starter in your post.

No one wanted to break the silence.

Kyoya sat with Hikaru and Tsubasa, absently stabbing his fork through his strawberry shortcake. At his left, Hikaru was similarly poking her spoon through her bowl of green tea ice cream. On his right, Tsubasa held his cup of green tea, swirling it around gently. His daifuku sat untouched on his plate.

Apart from ordering, none of them had spoken since entering the cafe. Nods had been their only greetings. No small talk, no pleasantries.

Even so, it was a comfortable silence.

The subject that brought them together wasn't something they wanted to discuss – really, all they wanted was each other's company. They wanted someone who understood what had happened, who had experienced the same nightmare and survived.

There was no need to talk about it. There was no need to put it into words.

They didn't want to put it into words.

But, sometimes they had to.

“I had a battle with Madoka yesterday.” Hikaru's quiet words startled Kyoya, causing him to spear through his cake. In the other seat, Tsubasa smiled.

“Was it fun?”

Hikaru nodded. For once, she smiled too. Kyoya could see it was genuine. “I'm still pretty out of it, though. She beat me...”

“So long as you enjoyed it, right?” Tsubasa reminded her. She nodded again, finally taking a bite of her ice cream.

“Yeah.”

Staring at his forkful of cake, Kyoya offered, “Has the lavender helped?”

Both his companions nodded. The lack of bags under their eyes confirmed they were telling the truth – the flowers had been helping them sleep more, whether by tea or other means.

“Thank you,” Tsubasa said quietly. He didn't ask why Kyoya had so much lavender.

“I have more if you need it.”

Hikaru nodded. She didn't ask where Kyoya got it from.

He appreciated their lack of questions.

They fell into a brief silence again, now eating their sweets rather than simply staring at them. There were few places Kyoya felt at ease these days, but he would admit to himself that outings with these two were part of that list.

He may not have experienced the dark power quite to the extent that they had, in terms of trauma and consequences, but he understood the twisting pain all the same.

“Has the voice settled any?” Tsubasa asked him after a while. Kyoya grimaced, the mere mention of it letting it rise in his mind.

**_Win win beat him win defeat Gingka win WIN you have to win you can beat Gingka it only matters if you beat him-_**

His grip on his fork tightened, and the metal bent in his hand. “Not really,” he confessed through gritted teeth.

There was compassion and understanding in their eyes. Coming from them, it didn't anger him. “Have Yuki and Ryutaro been able to come up with anything to help?” Tsubasa pressed carefully.

**_-beat Gingka beat Gingka BEAT HIM-_** “I'm scheduled for an MRI next week, and Ryutaro gave me some oils to diffuse.”

They nodded. Both had done similar things for their own situations. “Cedarwood?” Hikaru guessed.

“Plus lemongrass and something called ylang ylang.” **_-you can win you always win you can beat him-_**

Two dark hands took hold of his, and after a moment of difficulty, he dropped his slightly mangled fork. It clattered to the table. His companions – friends – watched him silently, but didn't pull their hands away.

Hikaru extracted a small bottle from her pocket and offered it to him. With his free hand, Kyoya took it carefully, trying to ignore the repeated chanting in his head. With one hand he managed to twist open the lid, and he took a long breath in through his nose, welcoming the calming, earthy scent.

After a minute or so, the voice faded back into nothing. Kyoya breathed in slowly once more, then let out a long, relieved sigh. Hikaru and Tsubasa removed their hands from his. Kyoya closed the bottle and returned it, nodding silently in thanks.

“You want to go yell at something?” Tsubasa offered. Cracking a very slight smile, Kyoya didn't reply. He appreciated the joke.

With no further incidents, they finished their sweets, paid their bills, and parted ways. Hikaru headed home to pack for a long-needed vacation at the beach. Tsubasa was planning on taking a walk in the woods.

Kyoya made his way toward the walled off plot of land that he'd bought sometime before the world championship. As soon as he entered the gate, the sight of blooming flowers blessed his sight, and he smiled.

Replacing his gloves with those more suited for garden work, Kyoya knelt in the dirt and began caring for the one thing that always kept him sane, no matter how loud the voice was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you find all the headcanons


	4. Happy Birthday, Big Sis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I even explain this...
> 
> So uh, Tumblr made a Beyblade Mafia Au. Selen ran away to join Beylin Temple. And here we are. Check the tag "the mafia au" on Tumblr to maybe get some more context.
> 
> Oh. Also Mafia AU Dashan and Selen are dating. It just kinda happened.

Selen was enjoying a wonderful day shopping with Mei Mei before Chao Xin burst into the shop.

Before Mei Mei could tell him off, he was grabbing Selen and throwing his wallet to his girlfriend. “Yell at me later, make me pay for it now!”

“What the hell?!” Selen demanded. Chao Xin made no attempt to respond, dead set on dragging her outside. He didn’t even stop to make a flirtatious comment – not to her, not to the shopkeeper, not even his bewildered girlfriend. “Chao Xin! Let me go!”

“Hate me all you want for ruining your day, but trust me, it’s better than the alternative.”

 _“_ _What_ alternative?!”

For just a brief moment, he turned back to look at her, still pulling her along. “Argo.”

Every retort Selen had died with that one name. She fell silent, letting Chao Xin escort her to wherever it was they were going.

It was no surprise when they started heading up the path to Beylin Temple. Dashan was waiting for them at the gates, and he ushered her in quickly. It was closed and barred behind them.

“Is he-?” Selen wasn’t able to finish her question. The answer scared her too much.

“Aguma spotted Ian about an hour ago,” her boyfriend explained. “No sign of the others yet, but where there’s one...”

She tried not to shake, but failed miserably. “They’ve never come so close before. Why now? What’s going on?”

It had been three—no, four years since she’d left her brothers in Brazil, joining a traveling blader named Dia as she made her way to China. Dia had grown up there, and she’d pulled her into the Temple with the ferocity of a mother wildcat fighting for her kits. The other members had quickly taken to her, even Dashan.

 _Especially_ Dashan.

In those four years, none of her brothers had ventured to Asia. Not that the Beylin Temple network knew of, at least, and Selen knew that was near impossible to get by.

Chao Xin had jumped on top of the gate when she wasn’t looking. Dashan had her in his arms, something else she hadn’t noticed. “We don’t know,” he said softly, “but you’re safe here.”

She nodded fiercely. Selen knew she was safe here. This was home. There was no safer place than that.

She was gently urged into the kitchen, where Dashan set about making her favorite tea. Chi Yun appeared at some point, standing guard at the door. Someone brought in her sketchbook, and she lost herself in scribbles, anything that helped push past the knot in her gut.

She drew Dia. Mei Mei. That cute Japanese girl, Hikaru. She drew Chi Yun as he stood guard, and Dashan as he sat with her. She drew the pancakes she’d helped him make just the other day. The sculpture of Zurafa she’d made him a few months ago for Valentine’s Day. Anything. Everything.

She’d had two mugs of tea and several cookies, and the clock chimed the hour two separate times before Chao Xin joined them. Mei Mei was at his side, holding bags with the clothes they’d been going to buy.

Chao Xin held an envelope.

“We cornered them,” Mei Mei explained, still trying to catch her breath from whatever had happened. “Ian and Enzo. We couldn’t find Argo.”

“They said he didn’t know they were here.” The bitterness in Chao Xin’s voice made it obvious he didn’t believe that. “Swore they’d leave if we did something for them.”

Scowling, Chi Yun demanded, “What kind of _something?”_

Chao Xin looked to Mei Mei, who nodded. He held out the envelope. “They wanted Selen to have this.”

Selen belatedly realized she was clinging to Dashan’s arm. She didn’t stop. Her brain wasn’t working; she couldn’t tell if she wanted to know what was inside or not. She could feel herself shaking again.

“It’s not what you think it is,” Mei Mei said softly. “I read it to make sure.”

“You keep saying that,” Chao Xin grumbled. “I don’t like this. I say we toss it.”

Staring at Mei Mei, trying to read her face, Selen found she couldn’t. Her fellow female blader was wearing an emotionless mask, with not so much as a twitching eyebrow to give her thoughts away. She held Dashan’s arm just a little tighter. “What does it say, Mei Mei?”

Mei Mei said nothing. Dashan looked like he was ready to take the letter himself, but was waiting for her call. Biting her lip, Selen tried to make up her mind.

They hadn’t seen Argo. That could mean a lot of things. They’d caught Ian and Enzo. That...only meant _one_ thing, as far as she remembered. No one caught a Garcia that didn’t want to be caught. Especially not Enzo. He was the slyest kid she’d ever known, and even Chao Xin and Mei Mei wouldn’t be able to keep him in sight if he didn’t want them to.

Ian and Enzo wanted her to see whatever was in that envelope.

Forcing her arm to move – not the one holding Dashan, that one stayed right where it was – she took it from Chao Xin’s outstretched hand. She was shaking so much she could see it, and so could everyone else.

Argo thought she was a traitor. That had been made quite clear when she’d left.

Ian and Enzo hadn’t said a word. She had no idea how they felt on the matter.

Maybe the answer was in this envelope.

It had been held shut by tape, already broken by Mei Mei’s earlier look. Still unable to let go of Dashan, it took a bit of work to get out the paper inside with one hand. The envelope fell to the floor, and she slowly unfolded the paper.

This handwriting was unfamiliar. She’d seen Argo’s and Ian’s before. But Enzo hadn’t known how to write when she’d left. Was this his? It sure looked messy enough to be.

Taking a long, loud breathe to try to calm her nerves, Selen buckled down and worked her way through the letter. Her reading wasn’t the best, but it didn’t look like she needed anything more than that. The words were childish and crude.

Enzo for sure.

_Happy birthday big sis._

_Argo said your birthday doesn’t matter anymore. He says we should forget about you and that every mention of you is a disgrace to the Garcia name._

_I don’t know if he’s right. I saw you on TV. For the parade that the Chinese people did for their new year party. You looked really happy. I don’t think I ever saw you that happy when you were with us._

_Ian says he doesn’t think you want to see us. I don’t know if he’s right either. But I_ _wanted you to know that you have a really pretty smile. I miss your smile. But I think the family you have now deserves it more._

_Argo thinks that me and Ian are doing something else. I’m not sure what Ian told him, I just agreed until he let us go. He doesn’t know where we are. I don’t think he knows where you are either. Ian says he never talks about it. So he might know. I’m not sure. But he won’t come after you, even if he does. He doesn’t care._

_I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t care._

_This letter might be late. Or maybe it’s early. I’m writing this on the way. I don’t know when we’ll find you. But I’m tired of thinking about you and being sad about it. I wanted to say I’m sorry._

_I don’t know how Ian feels, but he brought me here, so maybe he’s sorry too. He won’t say, even when I try to ask him. But he promised not to hurt anyone, so I think that means something. I promise to make sure he keeps his promise. I don’t want to hurt your friends. That would make you sad._ _Then you wouldn’t smile anymore._

_I miss you, big sis. I hope you keep getting happier and happier._ ~~_Maybe one day I can join you_ ~~

_I can’t give you a present, but maybe your friends can give you one for me. I know that’s a lot to ask. They don’t have to._ _I j_ _ust know_ _want you to know_ _that I wish I could._

_Love, Enzo_

 

Selen couldn’t stop crying. She couldn’t tell which wet spots had already been on the paper from Enzo’s tears as he wrote it, and which were being made by her own. When Dashan tried to take the letter, she didn’t stop him; all she did was burrow into his arms, crying Enzo’s name as he read it.

She’d raised Enzo. She remembered his first words, his first steps, his first parkour, his first bey battle. Selen had been there for all of it. They were the best memories of her life. She still knew that when he was five, he hated cheese. When he was seven it became his favorite food in the world. He got upset when Ian tried to teach him to tie his shoes, so Argo had her do it. He still cried, but he would always come back to practice with her, no matter how many times it made him throw a fit. And the shoe.

Enzo was her baby. And he still loved her just as much as she loved him.

That was the best birthday present she could ever ask for. And it was right on time.


	5. A Christmas Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to the previous chapter. Still in the Mafia AU.

Selen had been reading Enzo’s letter once a week like clockwork for almost six months. She cried every time.

Dashan didn’t know what to do. He considered taking it away, but he felt that might make things worse. It was the only thing Selen currently possessed that linked her to her brothers. Maybe it was cathartic for her – she’d been holding in most of her feelings toward her brothers for the past four years, only spilling them out when they became too much. Then she went right back to bottling them up again. But since the letter had come, she hadn’t done that.

Since the letter had come, it seemed like a weight was slowly being lifted from her shoulders, a little more each time she re-read it.

At the moment, he was in charge of it. Selen had folded it and unfolded it so many times it was starting to fray apart, and she’d asked him to copy it before she ruined it. The Temple didn’t have a scanner, so he’d gone into town to visit the stationary store. They offered free use of their printer and other assorted office supplies.

Once done, the original went back into its envelope. The newly made copy was put in a complementary one offered to him by the clerk. He was turning to leave when a dark figure caught his eye, lurking in the back of the store.

His gut told him to investigate. Both copies of the letter were tucked safely into his coat, and only then did he approach the figure.

“...that one’s stupid too,” they were muttering, shoving a Christmas card back onto the shelf. They picked another, flipped it open, then returned it as well. “This is so _dumb_. I thought this Christmas thing was supposed to be all gushy and genuine and crap.”

From his point of view, Dashan could only make out the figure’s back. It was a young man, maybe Chi Yun’s age, bundled up in a camo-patterned winter coat. His hair was black and only slightly groomed. His voice was scratchy, and...oddly familiar. Dashan couldn’t place it.

He watched the young man shuffle through several more cards, too engrossed in his search to notice his presence. He had a grumbling complaint about each one, and was starting to get discouraged.

After throwing down a card that had started singing upon being opened, the boy kicked the shelf, rattling the cards on it and making several fall. “UGH! How the hell am I supposed to do this?! She’s _never_ gonna take any of these seriously!”

Flashing briefly back to hearing the same moan from Chao Xin only three days ago about what to buy for Mei Mei, Dashan had to smile. He still couldn’t place how he knew the voice, but he felt no reason to continue being suspicious. It was just a boy trying to find a card for someone he loved. That was clear enough.

Stepping closer, Dashan spoke softly, trying not to startle him. “Is something wrong?”

The boy’s stance shifted almost immediately. Shoulders hunched, his hood thrown up, his hands shoved into his pockets. “All good,” he muttered unconvincingly.

Dashan knelt down to collect the cards that had fallen, giving a chuckle as he did so. “It’s always hard to figure out what to get for someone, isn’t it? My friend nearly trashed this same store just the other day, looking through the gift idea catalogue.”

“I don’t need help,” came the grumbled reply.

“Who is it for?” The boy turned away, not answering. Dashan stood and started putting the cards back in their places. “Just humor me. If I can’t help you, I’ll get out of your hair.”

There was no response, not right away. Dashan had finished putting all the cards back before the boy spoke. “My sister. And her family.”

Dashan nodded. “I can see how that would be difficult. What are you looking to say?”

Another silence, with the boy softly kicking at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually. “And I love you. And I miss you. And I hope you’re happy.” His voice cracked in the last two statements, leading Dashan to believe that perhaps the boy’s trouble wasn’t as simple as he’d first assumed.

“Has it been a while since you last saw her?” he asked gently.

“A few years,” came the curt reply. “There was a fight. She left.”

Scanning the cards, Dashan plucked out a plain one with nothing but _Winter is the season of family_. The inside was blank, allowing one to write their own message. “Try this one.”

The boy turned, but only slightly. Dashan still couldn’t make out his face – it was if he was trying to hide it. A gloved hand reached out to snatch the card and once again Dashan only saw his back.

After a moment, the slouch disappeared from his shoulders. The boy turned to the shelf, tracking the matching cards and grabbing an envelope. Without another word he headed for the register, forcefully slamming down a collection of coins to pay. “I want this,” he demanded of the clerk, who admirably kept their composure.

As soon as the money was taken and he’d received his change, the boy was out the door. Dashan followed, and amusedly watched him sprint down the street for a moment before heading the other way to return to the Temple. He himself spent the walk contemplating what to get Selen, as Christmas was only three weeks away. It was her favorite holiday, and after the events of her birthday in June, he wanted to make sure she enjoyed it.

* * *

A week later, Dashan was in an art store looking at sketchbooks when someone joined him. He paid no mind to it until he heard that scratchy voice mutter, “Hey.”

Dashan paused, then turned to give a welcoming smile. “Hello,” he said cordially, trying not to chuckle at the boy. Not only was his hood up, it was tugged as closed as possible. His hair covered one eye and a scarf covered the bottom half of his face. It was a miracle he could see at all.

“She likes art,” he said.

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. What can I get with ten bucks?”

“I’d say a sketchbook, some watercolors, a few pencils.”

“Show me.”

Dashan smiled again.

The boy left with a collection of art supplies, paid for with his ten dollars, a few coupons Dashan had, and five dollars from Dashan’s wallet to pay for the clerk to wrap it for him. He picked the paper with the snowflake pattern.

Dashan left the store with a wooden case of art supplies and a large sketchbook, wrapped in snowman paper. He’d noticed Selen’s supplies had been starting to wear out recently.

* * *

The next time Dashan saw the boy was four days later, standing in front of the grocery store with his head tilted back to stare at the falling snow. He jolted when he noticed Dashan, and pulled his scarf up over his face with one hand. The other pulled his hood tight.

“Hello again,” Dashan said warmly. The boy didn’t answer at first, his one visible eye darting around nervously. Taking note of this, Dashan added a nod and began stepping into the store, leaving him to his own devices.

“Wait.” The boy’s gloved hand grabbed his arm. “I need more help.” Dashan turned around, and the fear in the boy’s eye was clear as day. “I don’t think it’s enough.”

“Are you giving them to her yourself?” Dashan asked.

“...What?”

“A gift means more when you hand it to the person in question,” he explained.

The boy’s hand retreated. The fear was still in his eye. “I can’t. She hates me.”

“But you don’t hate her.”

“I-” The boy squirmed uncomfortably. “No, I don’t. Even when they tried to make me.”

“They?”

No response. The boy just stared at the ground.

Dashan turned fully toward the boy, taking in his stance. The fear in his eyes, the hesitation in his movements. “Have you tried reaching out to her before now?”

Silence. Then, “Her last birthday. I don’t know if she got my letter.”

“You’d be surprised what a letter can accomplish. My girlfriend received one from-”

Dashan’s voice faltered as things started to click. “...her brother...for her birthday.”

The boy flinched back, his eye shut tight. Dashan stared at the brown eyelid that covered it.

“...She reads it every week,” he finished slowly.

“...She does?” The eye opened, lifting to look at him in disbelief.

“It’s one of her most treasured possessions.”

They stood in tense silence. Dashan now knew exactly who it was he’d been advising, and the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. Just as the boy moved to leave, Dashan found himself speaking, acting on instinct. “How do you make your pasta?”

The boy froze. “What?” His voice was barely audible, filled with shock.

“Your pasta. She said you were always better at making pasta.” Dashan extended his hand. “Why don’t you make it for her? I’ll pay for everything.”

Dashan didn’t need to see the boy’s face to know he was crying. The shaking of his shoulders told him that. “I can’t let you-”

“This is her favorite holiday. Let’s make it special.”

“Okay.”

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Dashan brought Selen out to the city. They marveled at the lights together, just like always. Their walk led them through all her favorite streets, past all his favorite decorations. It was the same walk they took multiple times every year in the winter season, enjoying each other’s company away from the prying eyes of the Temple.

Away from Mei Mei and Chao Xin and their kissy-faces, more accurately.

Selen noticed right away when they veered from their usual route. All Dashan said was, “It’s a surprise.”

They stopped in the park, at the edge of the small pavilion riddled with bright lights. He was waiting for them, hidden in his scarf and coat, holding a casserole dish topped with plasticware and three paper plates. On the table was a gift box wrapped in snowflake paper, an envelope leaning against it.

Dashan motioned for Selen to sit, moving the items closer to her. She gave both of them a puzzled look; Dashan smiled, the boy hid his face.

“Open them,” Dashan urged.

She opened them. The box came first, a small collection of watercolor supplies, complete with a small sketchbook. With a smile, she turned to thank Dashan, but faltered when he shook his head and motioned to their companion.

At Dashan’s pressing, she opened the card. He didn’t know what it said – he hadn’t pried. But she saw it for what it was almost immediately, her eyes jumping from the cardstock up to the boy in his coat, then flitting to Dashan with confusion. He just smiled.

She read the card, trembling the whole time. Tears had sprung up by the end of it. Their companion looked ready to bolt, but managed to stand his ground.

Selen read the last of it out loud. _“‘And to Dashan and Beylin Temple, and the girl that stole my sister, thank you. Selen would never be so happy without you. I owe you everything. I’ll never be able to repay you. Thank you for giving her what I couldn’t. Love, Enzo.’”_

As Selen set the card down and wiped her eyes, her little brother set the casserole dish down and slowly pulled back his hood. Dashan couldn’t tell which one was shaking more. He didn’t dare break the delicate silence between them.

Without a word, Enzo gave each of them a paper plate and a set of plasticware, setting the third in front of himself. He carefully served the spaghetti and meat sauce that had been keeping warm in the insulated container, flinching when Selen choked back a sob, and only continuing when Dashan nodded encouragingly.

Enzo sat across from them and stared at his plate. He tried to work his mouth a few times with no success. Selen couldn’t even make such an attempt, too busy trying to control her tears.

Clenching his fists on the table, Enzo eventually managed to force his words out. “In my letter I said that maybe one day I’d join you.”

Dashan felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath that came from his girlfriend. He’d helped Enzo practice what he wanted to say dozens of times, but now that it was in motion, the effect was far more than he’d anticipated.

“I...” Enzo shut his eyes, bit his lip just like his sister did when she was scared, then looked up at them both. “I want that day to be today. I want to stay here with you, big sis.” He hesitated, his gaze dropping. “I-If... _you_ want me to.”

“Don’t be _stupid,”_ she shot back, barely leaving a second of quiet between their voices. She was glaring venomously at her plate, shuddering horribly. Enzo jolted, and Dashan watched him slump down, fearing failure.

“Of _course_ I want you to stay,” she finished angrily. Tears dropped from her face, hitting the spaghetti that Enzo had made just the way she remembered it, with bell peppers and tomato chunks mixed into the meat sauce. “Of _course_ I do,” she repeated weakly, her scowl dropping away into fear, panic, misery. “I never wanted to leave you in the first place.”

Even after years apart, Enzo couldn’t stop his instincts and bolted to his feet. He was on their side of the table in an instant, taking her from Dashan’s arms and clinging to his sister tightly, swaying her back and forth just like she used to do for him. He started humming something Dashan had never heard before, at least until his own sobs took over to match hers.

Silently, Dashan slid from his seat, taking the spot in front of the third plate. He listened as both siblings whispered dozens of apologies through their tears. When their voices failed to continue that, when their throats were too sore to cry, Dashan spoke, raising his fork.

“To family,” he toasted.

The Garcia siblings turned to him, slowly, not quite comprehending. Selen was the first to follow, her knife raised. “T...To f-family,” she agreed, her voice raw.

“Family,” Enzo mimicked, too busy scrubbing at his face to hold anything.

Years later, they would all agree that one meal was the best food any of them had ever eaten.


End file.
